Disclaimer: None of the JAG characters are mine, they belong to Donald Bellisario and CBS and whatnot.

And another chapter! I dunno why, this story is a lot easier to write than some of my others, it keeps bouncing around in my head. Go figure. Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. And I can't really think of anything else to say so here's the chapter. Read, review, enjoy, and all that jazz.

Bud opened the door to the house slowly, he wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to Harriet; she would be devastated. Sighing he entered the foyer and closed the door behind him, calling out softly, "Honey?"

"I'm up here, Bud!" the answer came from the direction of the twins' room. Leaving his briefcase and cover downstairs by the desk Bud slowly made his way up the stairs. He paused in the doorway to the room, just watching as his wife gently tucked in the sleeping babies. She glanced up and smiled brightly at him, "Hi, sweetie!" But her smile faded immediately when she saw the look on Bud's face, "What's wrong?"

"Harriet, I have something I need to tell you. Can we go in our room for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure," she nodded, looking at him in concern. She knew from his face that this was not going to be news she wanted to find out in front of the kids. Following him down the hall she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was he being sent overseas? God, she hoped not, she didn't think she could handle that, not after what had happened when he was stationed on the Seahawk.

Bud waited for her to enter their room then quietly closed the door behind her. Motioning for her to sit down he joined her on the bed, looking at her carefully. Harriet frowned, her normally happy exterior gone, "Bud, what is it?"

"I don't really know how to say this…"

"Are you being sent overseas? Transferred?"

Bud blinked in surprise; it hadn't occurred to him that she would think that was what he needed to speak to her about. Though, now that he thought about it, it was a fairly logical conclusion for her to reach. Reaching out he took her hand gently in both of his before meeting her eyes as steadily as he could. Quietly he spoke, "Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie are missing in Iraq."

"What! How? When?" she stared at him in shock, unable to fathom what he had just said.

"We don't know how. If the people over there know they aren't telling us. As for when… two days ago."

"What- what about that Lt. Vuko-whatever? Didn't he help? Shouldn't they have been safer with three of them?" She was starting to panic now, growing more distressed by the second.

Bud carefully pulled her into his arms, trying his best to sooth her. He spoke softly, doing his best to answer her questions, "Yeah, Vukovic was with them. He's missing too. I don't know if he helped or not, and yes, they should have been safer with three of them."

Harriet tried to verbalize more questions but she couldn't get them past the lump in her throat. After a moment of struggling to speak she simply broke down into tears, burying her face in her husband's shirt. Quietly Bud held her, letting her cry it out, god knew he wanted to do the same thing.

Next Day

JAG Headquarters

1330 ZULU

It seemed the entire staff had arrived early, waiting for the General, hoping he would have more news on their two missing lawyers. Bud, Sturgis, and Jen stood in a small group together in front of Mac's office, trying to ignore the closed door and darkened interior. They spoke softly amongst themselves about their friends, trying to find something positive to think of in this time of bleakness. As one everyone's heads swiveled towards General Cresswell when he appeared. He gazed over the crowd of people, carefully meeting Sturgis, Bud, and Jen's gazes one by one. Finally he looked back at the group as a whole and silently shook his head before continuing on to his office, he knew nothing more.

After that silent announcement the mood of the office seemed to become even more somber. Sometime during the night a black MIA/POW flag had been hung on the conference room doors. Outside another one waved on the flag pole, just below the US flag. Though he had only known for a matter of minutes, the previous evening the general had notified the building staff, informing them that the MIA flag was to be flown until all three officers were found and returned stateside.

Same Day

Unknown Location, Iraq

2100 ZULU

Mac and Vukovic had been walking for hours, always heading down the road. After Mac had snapped had him Vukovic had made a couple of attempts to speak to her. She'd ignored him each time and eventually he'd lapsed into a sullen silence, shooting annoyed looks at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked. Mac ignored those also, more focused on placing one foot in front of another without falling over. Her ribs screamed at her and her ankle wasn't much better. Every time she took a step she was afraid it would give out. So far it hadn't.

Mac estimated that they'd covered approximately twenty miles. Under better conditions it would've been more but they'd been slowed down a bit by their injuries, though Mac was still pushing the pace beyond what would be considered normal anyways. Indeed, Vukovic had asked her a few times if they could stop. Come to think of it, he should be asking again in about one minute, Mac thought. His question was starting to become so regular you could set a clock by it.

Sure enough, a minute and a half later Vukovic spoke up again, "Mac, can we take a break? Geez, it's not like there's anyone out here to catch us if we stop for five minutes."

Mac sighed, finally glancing over at him, a feat she had managed to avoid for the past four and a half hours. "Look, lieutenant, we're in a desert country. We need to move during the night, 'cause if we try to do so during the day we'll just pass out from heat exhaustion."

He arched an eyebrow, "So that means what? We can't even stop for a break?"

Exhaling in annoyance Mac looked forward again. Spotting a rock outcropping not too far ahead she pointed at it, "Fine, we'll stop there for five minutes, no more."

"Thank you," Vukovic said with exaggerated gratitude. Mac simply rolled her eyes at him and wrapped Harm's jacket closer. They reached the rocks a couple minutes later and Vukovic sank down with a sigh of relief. Mac ignored him and perched as far from him as she could, staring off into the distance. The road had curved after a while and they were now headed southwest as opposed to southeast. Mac wasn't really sure that was a benefit, she could only hope they would hit a town before sunrise. Fortunately it was only just after midnight local time, at least as far as she could guess without knowing exactly where in Iraq they were.

Perched on the rock in the middle of nowhere at night, memories came rushing back to her. These were older than the others, flashes of the past nine years. One in particular stuck out in her mind, the night Harm's F-14 had crashed into the ocean. He'd been attempting to get back for her wedding, an event she had known, even then, pained him. But he'd tried anyways, despite his own feelings. She'd realized then just how much she felt for him, but she'd never been able to tell him.

Her mind flashed to more recent events.

Harm stumbled slightly as one of their captors slammed the butt of a rifle into his side. He didn't make a sound, just picked up the pace. He glanced over at the woman pacing next to him. Mac's eyes met his, reflecting a quiet fear as well as sheer determination. He tried to smile encouragingly, though it hurt the side of his face where he'd been punched.

She smiled tightly back then glanced at his side in concern, her gaze meeting his once more in silent question. He shrugged slightly in answer, yeah, it hurt, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they were being herded into a building. After stumbling across the unconscious Vukovic and the grinning insurgents they'd been tied up and placed into a truck. The ride had been about an hour long, but they had no idea where they had been taken, or even how fast the truck was going.

Then the ride had stopped, their feet were untied and they were "escorted" out. Now it was Mac's turn to stumble, her ankles still smarting from the tight ropes. For her trouble she too received a rifle butt in the ribs. Wincing she regained her balance and entered the building. Harm looked at her in concern, his mouth opening to speak. He hadn't even been able to make a sound when he'd been punched across the face, one of the men yelling at him to be quiet in Farsi. Though he didn't recognize the language he picked up on the meaning.

Vukovic was still unconscious and being carried a few feet in front of them. Weaving their way to the back of the building the duo watched as Vukovic was unceremoniously dumped into a small room. At the next one the men shoved Harm through the door. He stumbled, tried to catch himself, but without his hands free he failed and tumbled roughly to the floor, his head thumping solidly into the ground. "Harm!" the name was ripped from her throat in fear for him.

Mac shivered, trying to banish the thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to think about their time in captivity, his time in captivity. Even she wasn't sure how many days had passed, she knew it wasn't many but her internal clock had been screwed up by the pain. She knew the time but couldn't seem to figure out the date. She shivered again, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek against them.

Vukovic noticed the second shiver and scooted closer to her, murmuring quietly, "Cold?"

Her head jerked up and she glared at him, promptly hopping off the rock and away from him. She inhaled sharply at the pain in her ankle and nearly crumpled. Vukovic jumped down next to her and grabbed her elbow. She glared at him and jerked from his grasp. Vukovic sighed in exasperation, "I'm just trying to help."

"You've helped enough," her voice was icy.

He shook his head and looked at her, clearly aggravated, "Are you sure you're alright, Mac?"

"I'm a marine, I'm fine," she bit out. Spinning on her heel she stalked off down the road, refusing to show him just how much it hurt to do so. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so pissed at his attempt to help her, but one thought stood out in her mind, he's not Harm. She sighed, knowing that was a lot of it. But there were other reasons too, she'd been able to tell from day one half of his mission in life seemed to be to try and seduce her. The other half, she'd decided, was to piss her off beyond all belief. Vukovic cursed silently to himself and jogged after her.